Contrasting Tears
by that lionhearted vagabond
Summary: Because only Luna Lovegood would be best friends with a ghost


Children are mean, as sure as the sky is blue. Of course the sky is not always blue, so occasionally a kind child will come along. The children who drove eleven year old Luna Lovegood to one of Hogwarts' many forgotten rooms however were of the mean variety. At this moment however they are not all that important, instead let's focus on the room. This particular room happened to be a garden, an indoor garden, with overrun vines, and bright flowers, a glass domed roof, and perhaps Luna's favorite feature, an old wooden swing.

When she entered she was dripping wet, her dirty blonde hair tumbling wildly around her shoulders, barefoot and robe-less, her uniform white shirt buttoned incorrectly with large, uncustomary violet buttons. Her wand was tucked behind her ear, her skirt was slightly torn and speckled with mud, and a strange butterbeer cork necklace hung around her neck. None of this seemed to bother the odd girl though as she skipped along the deserted hallway.

She did not hesitate when she entered the secret room, it felt lost somehow, and she could not think of a better place to look for something lost then in a lost room (she was on a search for her frequently 'misplaced' shoes that had disappeared after she had removed them to take a walk in the grass). Taking in the vibrant colors of the garden she smiled, because there was something perfect about the no-longer-lost little garden, and evidently she was not alone in this opinion, for the room was not as empty as it had first appeared.

"Oh, hello," Luna said to the other occupant, he was tall with thick, neatly combed hair and Hufflepuff robes, a Head Boy badge pinned to the front of them, and very much dead.

"I suppose you're alive then?" The ghost asked rather glumly, gliding over to where the bedraggled first year stood.

"That's what I've been told, but for all we know you could be alive and I could be quite dead, you can never really be quite sure of anything. You are dead aren't you?" The ghost smiled at the young girl; very puzzled but not wanting to comment (he had been a Hufflepuff after all).

"Yes, I am in fact of the deceased variety," he said at last, the bemused smile still playing on his lips.

"Well," said Luna, "I can't say I have much experience with the deceased variety of sentient beings, but I would rather like to know your name."

"Christopher Knightsbury at your service. And may I inquire as to what they call you?"

"Of course you can inquire, it's expected at most first meetings in fact."

"Well in that case consider this my inquiry." Luna smile up at him (for he was rather tall, and she was rather short), before answering,

"They call me Loony, but if you're inquiring after my actual name it would be Luna. Luna Lovegood." Christopher frowned at the young girl before him, Loony did not seem like an affectionate sort of nickname.

"Who calls you Loony, Miss Luna Lovegood?" He asked, the frown still creasing his brow.

"Most people, except my professors. Well actually they might call me that as well, just not to my face as most people do." Slightly saddened by the fact that even fifty years after his death children had not appeared to have gotten any nicer Christopher asked another question,

"And why Miss Luna, are you all wet?"

"I was out in the rain," she answered brightly.

"Why on Earth were you out in the rain?"

"I heard a muggle saying once, that rain is actually angel tears. My mother died two years ago, and she was so lovely I couldn't imagine her being anything but an angel, so every time it rains I go out and say hello." Christopher sighed, this girl just couldn't catch a break, teased and bullied, and motherless as well.

"Doesn't it sadden you that your mother is crying?" He questioned. Luna, instead of looking sad just smiled, if a bit wistfully,

"People don't always cry because they're sad," she said.

"No, I suppose they don't do they?" he murmured quietly under his breath before grinning as the still sopping first year before him,

"And your lack of shoes?"

"I believe they were stolen."

"Stolen! By who?"

"I suspect the same people who started calling me Loony, but I can hardly get them into trouble based on a suspicion can I? Besides we mustn't blame them."

"And why ever not?" Christopher spluttered out in confusion.

"It's the wackspurts you see, they've nested in their heads, and now they can't think clearly at all."

"May I ask what exactly a wackspurt is?"

"Of course! My father says that you should never ask to ask a question. They're invisible little creatures that float around in the air, but if they get in your head they make your brain go all fuzzy." Christopher considered this for a couple minutes before nodding slightly and asking another question,

"Are they bountiful right before summer holidays hit?" Luna nodded enthusiastically,

"Oh yes, that's when they mate. Now I really must be going, I have to go find my shoes you see, Professor McGonagall always gets awfully upset when I show up to class without them."

"Goodbye Luna Lovegood, I hope I'll see you soon."

"I expect you will, I plan to come back here, it's very pretty, and that swing looks like it would be rather enjoyable to swing on."

"That it does, try to stay dry will you?"

"But where's the fun in staying dry Christopher Knightsbury?" And with that she wiggled her fingers and skipped off down the hallway.

Luna continued to go back to the lost little garden, she went almost every day in her first couple years of school, keeping Christopher up to date with the activities around the school (he very rarely left his garden, he had died there and was rather attached to it). In her third year she told him all about the Triwizard tournament, and in her fourth year she told him about how she was finally making friends, and the DA, and although her visits were getting less frequent she still stopped by at least once a week.

It all came crashing down though in Luna's last week of her fifth year, you see Fate is just as cruel as children. Ghosts walked this earth because they were too cowardly, or not yet ready, or any number of reasons really, and they continued to walk the earth until they had something to live for.

Luna gave Christopher something to live for, and so he began to fade away. When Luna walked into the garden to tell her friend about the death of the headmaster she met a different ghost, the Fat Friar hovered by the swing.

"Hello," she called, "have you seen Christopher?" The Friar only shook his head,

"I'm sorry, he's moved on, he sent me here to tell you just before he passed."

"Oh. . .oh," and then tears started to fall from Luna's blue eyes.

"Are you crying dear?" The Friar asked, curious as to why this young girl would care about the passing of a ghost.

"Why yes, I suppose I am. You see I've just now remembered that sometimes people cry because they're sad."


End file.
